$20; 12.9% alcohol; screw cap; 90 point
Wes Pearson's the sort of sensory scientist I can take to: cold and analytical as a silver whipsnake in mirror aviators in the lab; happy to go out and get funky and dream and laugh afterhours. That's presuming he's cold and analytical as a silver whipsnake in the lab.
(Comparing that precise alcohol number on the label to the friendly chaos in this bottle gave rise to such imagery.
With his McLaren Vale grape-growing droogies, the Peters Somerville and Bolte, Wes makes good humourous easy-spend wines like this.
I wouldn't try to grow and make Pinot gris anywhere you
can't grow and make presentable Pinot noir, which excludes McLaren Vale, but
this unlikely fruit came up over the hill from my joint in The Vales so what
the hell? In go the Dodgies. Munch munch.
It smells like pears, then yellow peaches, then quinces.
It has that slight cordite top itch. Take a schlück,
and it commences like fresh cordial of pear and quince, with that silky texture
of the syrup from poaching quinces followed gradually but firmly by that very
dry granular tannin unique to fresh quince.
By which I mean I quite like its see-saw from viscous to
sandy, from syrupy peach to bitter peel. Like canteloupe skin. It's a comfy,
perky, larrikin wine. And really good fun.
Grill scallops on the half-shell with mandarin peel,
spring onion and soy, and pour this cool, not chilled. Keep the dried chilli
handy. Laugh!
Dodgy Bros. McLaren
Vale Rosé 2015
$20; 13.3% alcohol;
screw cap; 91+ points
To concentrate colour and flavour in their reds, many
winemakers run off some free-run juice early in the winemaking. This often
makes very good rosé. The Dodgies made this with juice run off freshly crushed
Grenache and Shiraz grapes, before it picked up much colour.
The wine's a bit hazy, which means it hasn't been
filtered too hard, if at all.
It smells brightly of roses and red currants,
strawberries and raspberries, beneath a gentle insinuation of red summer dust.
For a few seconds it tastes like a syrup of all those,
lush and comforting. For a moment it does the turkish delight. Then its natural
acid and its young fresh tannins take hold, and the only way to get that dancing
fruit back is take another sip. How cool is that? Perpetual motion?
The other way out is to eat food. Kippered herrings, or
lightly-smoked silver perch out of the dam, with burnt rice. Posh types will
insist on smoked salmon.
As long as you laugh. This wine's a vibrant ride.
By the time summer comes round, it'll be better settled,
waiting for you. Only 100 cases!
Dodgy Bros.
McLaren Vale Grenache 2014
$20; 14.3% alcohol;
screw cap; 92+ points
This fruit comes from Strout Road, near the old Bethany
chapel. That's a sacred site for proper Valers, because Greg Trott's buried up
the end of Strout Road. With many other good folks. Good place to go and
ponder.
Which is never to say this is a ponderous wine. It's all bright cherries and prickly white
pepper. It has a delightful shade of musk confectionary. It reminds me of the
earliest Church Block reds, which came from that precinct. Like they were in
their youth, it's entertaining!
The palate's a drop more serious, but not much. It's
weighty in the mouth and finishes with fine
tannin and a curl of junketty/custardy acid and leaves that lozenge of
gel of those early fruits in the middle of the tongue. It's very more-ish.
And it brings a silly grin to the guzzler.
There are many very fine new Grenache reds emerging, some
a touch too sophisticated and highly-stroked for me. This one's rustic, without
overt hippy business, which is the extreme opposite of sophistry. This wine
makes me happy. I'm gutsing it with spare pork belly ribs smoked with heaps of
chilli and black pepper. And nothing else. But laughter.
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